


Personal Touch

by MSpataro210



Series: Episodes from George Lucas High School [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Meetings, Cute, Funny, M/M, Poe's Jacket, Some Spoilers, a tad sad, tongue in cheek references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe's had that jacket in his life ever since he could remember, from seeing it hang where his father would leave it to whenever he looked in a mirror before leaving the house now.  Yet, when he loses it, loses a piece of himself, can he ever recover it?  Or will the person who found it get to keep that little piece of Poe forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Touch

**Author's Note:**

> So I love Stormpilot, and ever since I saw the promos, I could tell that I have found a ship. I saw a post that had a similar plot line to what I wrote and it inspired me to write what you will be reading. I hope you enjoy!

            “Mom, have you seen my jacket?!?”

            Poe sifts through seemingly endless piles scattered about his room, chestnut hair in disarray from having run his fingers through in frantic worry. 

            “Which one dear,” Mrs. Dameron calls from the living room, “you have so many…”

            Poe stands, moving towards his door.  “My leather one,” he clarifies, “you know, with the red patch on the shoulder and my name sewn into the left inside pocket?”

            He’s been searching for about an hour, having torn through his closet before destroying his room looking for his favorite jacket.  Sure, he has tons of jackets, but this one is a bit more special than any of them could be. It’s not his orange jacket, which he wears when he’s in his car looking for a race he has no doubt he can win. It’s not his varsity jacket, which he only wears on game day when he and his team, the Rowdy Rebels, are playing a game: especially against the snobs at First Order Academy. Hell, it’s not even the puffy jacket his mom forces him to wear whenever the temperature goes below thirty degrees!

            This jacket is worn, old, and loved.  Greets him with a hug like an old friend whenever he puts it on.  Its filled with memories of spring days where his father would be out helping him ride his bike, to nights camping with his family in the woods near his house, to the day his father gave it to him on his fourteenth birthday.

            _“This jacket is very special,’ he tells Poe as the boy worships the jacket reverently in his lap, ‘I remember the day I bought it.  I ran into this young woman, and accidentally we swapped bags. I can tell you my face was priceless when I realized what **was** in the bag I picked up… but for you to know what was in it you need to be a bit older. Thankfully I was able to run into her the very next day wearing the jacket I bought.  Next thing you know, I’m walking down the aisle in the very jacket, to marry the girl I swapped bags with.”_

            “Where did you last leave it, honey?” his mom asks, meeting him at the opening to his room, casting him back into the present from his daydream of the past.

            Poe rolls his eyes, “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be looking for it…”

            “Don’t give me that look Poe,” she warns, folding her arms across her chest, “remember who put the down payment on your car.”

            Poe winces, rubbing at the back of his head.  “Sorry, ma,” Poe apologizes, “just worried, s’all.”

            She smiles, “I know. That jacket is very dear to all of us… now think.  Where did you leave it last?”

            Poe looks away, flipping and scanning through his past, trying to remember what he did with his jacket. He thinks he had it last night, after coming back from a night out with his buddies on the team. Their Coach, Mr. Solo, had been really hard on them recently, prepping them for the big game this Sunday. So when he gave them all the Friday and Saturday off to relax before they play, they rushed out of the locker room and to the nearest mall.

            Good timing too, since this really big movie premiered this weekend.  A movie everybody who was anybody was going to see, filled with action and comedy and space.  Tons of space. He and his friends were as good at being nerds as they were being jocks.

            By the time he got home, he was so tired he threw his jacket on the chair by the door and shuffled off to bed.

            “The chair!” Poe shouts, “I left it on the chair near the door!”

            “That chair?” his mom asks, but before she can continue her sentence.

            Poe races down the stairs to where he expects to see his jacket.  But when he gets there, he sees nothing on the chair.

            “But-but I was sure…” he whispers, hands moving across the leather of the chair in shock.

            “I tried to tell you,” his mom is right behind him, “I’ve been down here and didn’t see it there.”

            “But where could it be?” Poe turns, eyes starting to tear at the thought of his lost jacket.

            “I have no idea honey-unless…” his mom drops off.

            “Unless? Unless what?” Poe moves closer, waiting for his mom to finish her sentence.

            “I mean, earlier today I left a box there for Goodwill,” she continues, “I was in the kitchen when they came in, so I told them to take what was on the chair… I didn’t see the jacket there when I put the box down, but it is the same color as the chair…”

            Poe doesn’t wait to hear her finish; he’s already grabbing his car keys and heading out the door. His mom follows.

            “Be careful!” she calls out, but knows her warning is going to go unheeded when the sound of tires screeching across the pavement reaches her ears, and all she can focus on are the tire tracks Poe’s left in the driveway.

* * *

             The bell rings as Poe all but runs into the small Goodwill store on the corner of Jakku and 4th. He makes a beeline for the clothing section, eyes widening when he sees the jacket rack.  He’s pushing through the hangers, near hysterical when he gets closer and closer to the end.

            “Come on, come on,” he mutters, “it’s got to be here…”

            “Can I help you with anything sir?”

            “Gah!” Poe turns, gasping at being surprised by a girl who can only be a tad older than him. She stares at him with disinterested eyes, hair pulled into two little buns that hover over her ears. The name on her tag reads ‘Connix’. He feels like he remembers her… but can’t place it.

            “Sir?” she repeats, “Anything at all?”

            “Uh-yes, actually,” Poe finally answers, wits about him, “I’m looking for a jacket-brown leather. It has a red patch on the shoulder and a name-“

            “Stitched on the inside left pocket?” she finishes.

            “You’ve seen it!” Poe declares moving closer than strangers should.  She takes a step back.

            “I have seen it, yes,” she says, “when I sold it.”

            And if Poe’s heart had just started to swell up with relief, it was instantly broken in two by her next few words.

            “What?” he whispers, eyes wide with fear and despair.

            “I sold it,” she continues, moving back to where she was behind the counter, “a boy around your age came in and left with it a few minutes ago, actually.”

            “You don’t-you don’t understand,” Poe follows her, facing her opposite the counter, smiling crazily, “I need that jacket.  It’s mine. It wasn’t even supposed to be here!”

            The girl, Connix, just shrugs her shoulders.  “I guess you just weren’t fast enough.”

            He stands there, eyes blurring while everything gets fuzzy around him.  He’s breathing, but each breath is worse than the last, seeming to increase in speed without ever giving him any air.  Poe doesn’t know how long he stands there: maybe a few seconds, minutes, it could have been days.

            “Sir,” Connix shakes him, he looks up.  She still gives off an air of indifference, but Poe can tell in her eyes that she’s a tad worried for him.  “Sir, are you okay?”

            Poe nods, clearing his throat and wiping away at the almost tears in his eyes. “Yeah,” he gets out, voice thick, “yeah…”

            “Then if that’s all…?” she continues, giving him a not so subtle hint he should probably get out. Poe swallows hard.

            “Yeah…” he says, “I’m… good. Thank you for your… help.”

            He leaves, slower than he’s ever gone in his life.  He makes it to his car, sticks his keys in the car and brings it to life.

            It’s the first time he’s ever gone at the speed limit.

* * *

 

            “No, no, I’ll be fine for the game tonight,” Poe lies.  He’s on the phone, walking through the park while talking to one of his team members. It’s been a day since Poe has lost the jacket, and he can’t stop thinking about it.  Especially about the words the girl at the store had said.

            ‘ _If you had only been faster…’_

            In his life, Poe has always been synonymous with fast.  He was the best drag racer in his entire town, holding the title since he could drive. He’s lived life fast, always brimming with energy and raring to jump headfirst into anything. He’s even the fastest running back the team has ever seen since Coach Solo was on it in 1977.

            But now, it feels like he’s walking through life  as if it were molasses.

            He feels separated from it all. He got home, after the goodwill ordeal, and headed straight to bed.  Poe slept all through dinner.  The only reason he woke up was because he was flooded with texts and calls from his teammates, wondering where he was.  He never missed a pre-game party.

            Well… he can’t say ‘never’ now.

            Just thinking about how stupid he was, how slow… it’s driving him mad.  Each time he turns he thinks he catches a flash of red, the look of worn leather.  But it’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

            If only his dad could see him now, how his only son was being driven slowly insane by his own stupidity.

            Poe has no one to blame but himself.

            He can’t even blame the poor kid who has his jacket… dirtying it, not knowing how special it is to its previous owner.

            “Yeah, I’ll see you at the game later.  ‘Kay, bye.”

            He hangs up the phone, stuffing it into his varsity jacket.  It’s not the same.  It burns on his skin; his body knowing the substitute cannot make up for the real thing.

            Poe looks up at the sunny, cloudless sky, body limp, depressed over an article of clothing and mad at how the weather is mocking him.

            He must be a sight, he thinks, to be sulking in the park on a day where it seems everyone is out enjoying themselves.  Poe can hear dogs barking, children laughing, and people just being… happy.

            It’s only been a day but he forgets what happiness might feel like.  Granted, he hasn’t been fully happy for a long time, sadness always in the shadows waiting for the perfect moment to strike.  Losing his jacket was the perfect opportunity for the dark side in his mind to rush in and attack him, clawing away at whatever joy he built since… yeah.

            He tries not to think about _that_ , not wanting his mood to sour even more.

            Snippets of conversation fly by, words mixing in with the white noise of his mind.

            “…Can’t wait to see them sniveling when we beat them…”

            “…I’m sure he’s fine, I mean he’s such an important character they would never…”

            “…I just bought the jacket, don’t ruin it!”

            He jerks, the last sentence pricking him where it hurts, sending a shiver down his spine. He turns, trying to find where the words came from when he sees it.

            Brown leather.

            Red patch.

            His jacket.

            Poe springs up, dodging the bench as he races towards the young teen that is wearing his jacket. He’s with another teen, a smaller girl holding an ice cream cone.

            “Hey!” he calls, getting closer, “Hey!  You!”

            They turn, eyes widening at the boy moving at them at what can only be warp speed.  Poe is running so fast, he guesses it takes only parsecs to reach the duo.

            He has to stop for a beat, to catch his breath, before he looks up at the boy who is wearing his jacket.

            And… wow.

            He’s a tad taller than him, a bit more broad shouldered (filling out the jacket the way he never could but his father always did).  He’s the color of mahogany, with eyes like swirling hot chocolate his family would share on cold winter nights, when he was little.

            “Yes?” the boy says, shocking Poe back into reality.

            He knows he had something to say, his finger is up and his mouth is open.  However, he didn’t expect the guy to look like… this. He swallows loudly, and points at the jacket.

            “Jacket.”

            It’s all he could get out, and he knows it’s the worst impression he can make but he finally feels like he’s back in his own body, instead of a ghost haunting his walking corpse. Dragged back to life by just _seeing_ the jacket with his eyes.

            “Yes, it’s a jacket,” the girl rolls her eyes, “Can you name what’s under the jacket, too, or is that too advanced for you?”

            The girl’s voice breaks the trance the other boy has placed on Poe, and he squints at her. Surprise attractiveness was unknown territory, but he knew sass like it was the back of his hand.

            “I know what jackets are,” he bites back, “I meant to say that the jacket was mine.”

            The boy opens his mouth, but is cut off by the girl throwing her arm in front of him, protectively, ice cream getting dangerously close to the leather.  Poe and the boy both wince.

            “I think you’re confused with how jackets work,” the girl returns, “usually the people who _own_ them, _wears_ them.”

            “Not necessarily,” Poe pushes her arm down and away from the boy in the jacket, “not if the jackets were never meant to be on the person they are on!”

            “How can jackets know who’s putting them on?” she snides, “they’re jackets!  You’re making no sense!”

            “You’re no sense!” Poe says.

            “Enough!”

            The two stop, turning to stare at the darker teen, whose arms are folded across his (large) chest, and Poe can see muscles against the leather sleeves.

            “Rey, let him explain,” he says first, talking to the girl.  Her mouth turns down, but she lays down her arms nonetheless… for now.

            “Now,” the boy turns to Poe, “you were saying?”

            “The jacket you’re wearing,” Poe answers him, “it’s mine.  See, it was accidentally picked up with the box for Goodwill my family and I give every month.  I tried getting it back, but you… beat me to it.”

            The boy’s eyebrows raise, before opening up the jacket.  He points to the pocket.

            “You’re ‘Poe D.’?” he asks, letting the jacket flap fall when Poe nods his head.  The boy looks away, before chuckling slightly, shaking his head. “I knew it was too good to be true…” he mutters.

            “What?” Poe asks, catching what the teen said.

            “It’s just,” the boy continues, “I knew this jacket was too nice to have ended up at Goodwill on purpose. Even more shocked that I was able to afford it.  But… the good thing about those kinds of shops is that they discount items that have a ‘personal touch’, so I was able to snag this with the rest of the money I had.”

            “Afford it?” Poe asks again, tilting his head to the side.  He’s surprised that this boy should even be thinking about money, when he looks like he deserves to be showered with gold and jewels every second he breathes.

            “I’m… going through a bit of a rough patch,” the other boy says, “I’ve recently had to make a clean break after my family… disowned me.”  The heartstrings in Poe’s chest are pulled even closer towards this boy. “I spent most of my money on a cheap place to live and food, and I had to transfer out of my old school because I couldn’t afford it anymore, as well as being forced to leave with only my school things and the clothes on my back-”

            “Wow…” Poe whispers.

            “Sorry,” the teen scrubs a hand down his face, “I shouldn’t really… lay that all out on a stranger. You-you probably just wanted your jacket back-well by all means, please.  It _is_ yours.” He strips himself of the leather, having to peel it off his skin in a way that Poe shouldn’t find sexy after what he has heard.

            “No!” Poe shouts, surprising not only the girl and boy, but also himself.

            “Excuse me?” the boy says.

            “No, no,” Poe continues, “you should… you should keep it.”

            “Really?” he says, “This jacket seems to be special for you to just… run up to a stranger, shouting at them.”

            “I’m… I’m sure,” Poe says smiling, meaning it, “Besides, you look good in it.  Better than I ever did, that’s for sure.”

            It’s hard to tell, but Poe thinks he can see a tint on the taller boy’s cheeks.

            “Oh… okay,” he says, slipping the jacket back on with a small smile, “but I still feel like I owe you something for it.  Do you want money… anything?”

            Poe’s about to tell him to think nothing of it, when an idea flashes in his mind: He smirks

            “Actually,” he drawls, “if you’re not doing anything… maybe you could swing by tonight’s football game at Lucas High, and after the Rebels win we could go out for a celebratory… date?”

            He’s stunned the boy into silence, that’s for sure.  He stares wide-eye at Poe, while the seconds tick by and pound away at his heart. The boy turns to look at the girl, Rey, and only then does Poe start to think maybe she might be his girlfriend, and how much of an utter fool he’d be.  Maybe he should have just left instead of taking a leap of faith.

            But then the girl is looking at the boy and motioning for him to do something.  He turns back to Poe.

            “Yes!” he says, face maroon, “I mean, y-yeah, sure.  I’d-I’d like that.”

            Poe’s heart swells, probably for the first time in a while, if he’s being honest.  Even before he lost his jacket, he doesn’t remember feeling this… good, this… happy.  It’s a feeling that makes parting with his jacket less bittersweet, knowing that it’s probably found a new home with someone who deserves it more than him.

            “Great!” Poe says, “I can’t wait to see you there!  I’ll be number 28 on the Home team.”  He turns to leave, but remembers he forgot something.

            “What’s your name, by the way,” Poe asks, “because I don’t think I should call you ‘Jacket Guy’ on our date.”

            The guy laughs, before holding his hand out: “Finn.”

            “Finn,” Poe rolls the name around in his tongue, liking the way it sounds, “I’m-“

            “Poe,” Finn answers, “it’s been established.”  His eyes dart to where the name rests across the pocket over the heart.  Now it’s Poe who blushes.

            “Right,” he lets go, feeling a bit colder without Finn’s warmth, “Right.  I’m going to-going to go n-now.”  He smiles, leaving, trying to end on a good note.

            Tripping over his feet doesn’t help that.  He stumbles, but catches himself before landing completely on his ass.  Poe looks up to see Finn holding back his chuckles while Rey’s eyes have completely rolled back into her head.

            “Yeah, I meant to do… that,” Poe says.

            “I’ll buy it,” Finn shrugs, then winks.

            “Trust me, I’m more graceful on the field,” Poe continues.

            “I believe you,” Finn nods.

            “Okay, I’m gonna go for real now,” Poe thrusts his thumb back, earning another chuckle from his date. He jogs backwards for a couple of seconds, eyes affixed on Finn, before turning and making the rush back home to prepare for the game.

            He has a man to impress.

            While running, he casts a glance upwards, and can’t help but think of his father, and how he’d be laughing at how much of a fool Poe made of himself, but also of how proud he’d be for doing the right thing.

            The right thing being leaving the jacket with the man who may very well be his future husband: if he plays his cards right, that is.

* * *

 

            Finn and Rey take a seat on the bench Poe abandoned before he interrupted the two before. Rey finishes her melting cone while Finn stares off in the direction Poe ran off to, a small smile on his face.

            “Ugh,” Rey gags, “if you’re gonna look like that whenever you see him, I’m not talking to you at school.”

            Finn rolls his eyes. “Come on, you can’t blame me: he is cute.”

            “Eh,” Rey shrugs, “not my type.”

            “No one is your type,” Finn tells her.

            “That’s because I’m too good for anybody,” Rey stretches, smiling proudly.

            “I don’t know who you’re acting more like now, your mother, or your father,” Finn tells her, shaking his head.

            “I like to think it’s a good mixture of both,” Rey answers him, “the greatest qualities of both Leia and Han Organa-Solo, together: forming the perfect person the world has ever seen!”

            “You’re delusional,” Finn says, “but you’re lucky it’s one of the reasons I keep you around.”

            “Pfft,” Rey chortles, “more like I keep _you_ around.”

            Finn taps her lightly on her shoulder with his fist, while Rey responds with a harsh jab to his arm.

            “Ow!” he rubs the sore spot, “Too rough.”

            “Sorry, I forgot how fragile you were,” she says, getting up.  She holds a hand out to him, “Come on, we have to go make you look pretty for the ball tonight, Cinderfella.”

            Finn rolls his eyes again, but takes the proffered hand.

            He walks with her all the way back to her house, where her dad’s beat up minivan sits in the driveway, where the family dog Chewie waits inside to lick their faces, and where he’s felt more a part of then his own family’s house.

            And when they arrive to the stadium, Finn in his jacket, he catches sight of the player with the number 28 on his back.  The player looks back at him, and even though the helmet blocks it, Finn can tell he’s smiling.

            Finn’s warm, and he knows it’s not the jacket.

            But he still thanks it for giving him the warmth he wishes will stay with him forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Good? Leave kudos and comments to let me know what you think, and may the force ever be with you.


End file.
